PERCEPTION
Before the abyss, I had it all
Letting go of all I see
My friend, I hope our time won't end
It took a short time for you to notice
Without knowing who I am
We talked, we became friends
Connecting the dots, missing every line
Connect them and figure me out
Randomly it comes your way
Underneath a never known chemistry
Ask me to stay and I may
Grinding your teeth into my way
Cut out my eyes, and store them up
A tongueless mouth, nothing to say
Maybe by tomorrow you will forget
Losing myself in my own conversation
Hiding behind my one big regret
Don't know, Don't care
You had me open up
A book I closed, knowledge lost
No need to see
A mystery called deception
What I am cannot be seen with the naked eye
Along came you using your *ucked* up perception
The ability you miss use
making sense of this connection
A process you carry with your own patterns
You asked, you listened, without making assumptions
A taste to take off my shoulders,
To release an error locked in my Asylum
I myself am enjoying the insights about him
He's got me convince, using his perception
:)
SKAT

Why do people, want to cause
Other people pain
Where is the Love
That will break the chain
Someone says something
Then it's tit-for-tat
I've played this before
We all know the score
Now who's up at bat
I think it's time, for us to play
The self healing game
Before there's no one, left
Around to blame
One that's more thoughtful
And much less insane
Let's reach for the Sun
And help everyone
Come out of the rain
All we have, is this fleeting chance
To get this right
No time for jealousies
No time to fight
Don't say, that you're sorry
Don't seek to forgive
Just start here today
And throw it away
And learn how to live

The girl is an ultra-modern scholar,
Belongs with an upper-middle class family.
Looking very nice, smart, gets angry suddenly.
She reads M.A in English at Presidency University.
She is assimilating to the ideas of Shakespeare,
Shelley, Keats, Neruda, Byron...
Fluently speaks English, loves cricket.
Shoulders are shaken by expression.
She cries alone, laughs with everyone....
The girl is very good.
The boy is a post-modern educated son of a lower-middle class family.
He studies M.A in Bengali at Calcutta University.
He is assimilating to the routes of Vaishnab literature,
Ideas of Bharatchandra, Rabindranath Tagore, Nazrul, Jibanananda...
Writes poems, sings song, loves football.
He walks on the high-street and observes people.
He laughs alone, listens to everyone...
The boy is very good.
They are attracted by the opposite personality!
The girl wants that her lover will be a modern man.
The boy thinks that his lover will become as the mind of his.
They are changing silently
Losing individuality.
Time flows.
Love goes to another address...
SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA

Some say you're not quite whole,
But I know better, Angel Child.
You live in a place all your own,
Free, unhinged, sometimes wild.
In precious moments you let me in
And I am stunned by what I see.
Purple trees and butterfly bees
And things I thought couldn't be.
You tell me of other wonders
In a voice so sweet I nearly weep—
Of Daisy Lou, a lizard that's blue,
And of mice that sing you to sleep.
Then abruptly your voice changes
And your look seems far away.
I have become a stranger to you;
You have said all you want to say.
I understand the pattern too well;
You have gone where I can't go.
You dwell there often, Angel Child,
It's where you're wholly whole.

THE PLIGHT
I never cease to ponder at the turmoil in my life
Though I feel my soul is peaceful it is manifest in strife
While the strife is all internal 'neath a self content facade
Turmoil rises in the absence of at-one-ment with my God
Is it merely my perception? Am I resisting taking heed?
Should this life be one of resting, or is it strife I need?
It should be a simple matter to find the purpose of this life
Is it growth I need from striving or is it rest I need from strife?
Is it focused introspection, is it altruistic love?
Is it spiritual reflection, or is it all of the above?
For sure it’s more than economic, yet while that’s necessary too
Is it our souls’ evolution that makes it all worthwhile to do.
I can see no point in living just to pass another day
I must have something more worth giving, than just to pay my way.
It would be so much the simpler if a man could know for sure
What his purpose is for living, his evolvement to procure.
Will my purpose well within me? Could a vision not appear?
And suggest a clear direction to pursue while I am here.
I’m so tired of treading water, putting time in ‘till I die
There must be something more constructive waiting for me by and by
I have fancied other options but none have succored to my taste
Yet to continue what I’m doing simply put, seems like a waste
So it seems the only option is to carry on and wait
And resolve that when I’m called on I will not hesitate
I have learned of soul eternal, on an endless ageless quest
Taking various forms and bodies, each to serve its purpose best
With each lifetime experience and with every lesson learned
It’s one step closer to perfection that the growing soul has earned
For it’s purpose is advancement, and to not be left behind
In it’s struggle for ascension to God, the universal mind
I have friends who understand me, superficially at least
I have others who are certain I have succumbed to the beast.
I have family who despise me as a traitor to the faith
Very quick to, criticize me and condemn me as "off base"
I have learned I must not judge them, t’would be a travesty indeed
For they are only doing what ‘ere it is that their souls need.
In the meantime, I’m impatient, that my calling has not come
It’s quite clear that I’m not ready, sufficient learning’s not been done.
The problem’s not with others, nor need they change for me
The work must all be done within me for my soul to be set free

Do not look to me with questioning eyes
For i do not possess the answers you seek
i cannot taste the bitter sweetness on your tongue,
or smell the withered flowers along your path
My heart beats with less rythm than your blues
i am unable to stumble through your dark corridors,
for you are poet undiscovered
Your answers are hidden deep within an apathetic pen
For you hide behind a painted closed window
Pushing too little
arriving late
Not aware of your own relevance
Solitarily, feeling sorry for yourself
When instead, pity could be your party
Yes it is true, the world celebrates sad clowns
But you do not let laughter mix with your grey sky tears
i myself, see images of you poured out on limitless pages
Rearranged
Sculpted
Until your words have substance
Becoming living and breathing beings
I wish you to reveal to us your cherished children
Birth them to a forgiving unforgiven world
Risk the grasping hands of rejection
True courage will reveal your annoited pen
Without risk
you cannot
will not
bleed in rainbowed splendor
Instead, days will become years
Yesterday will slide into tomorrow
All the while the world would be less
A shadow of what it could have been
In a place of unawareness
Oblivious to its own lacking
Bathed in deprivation
All because
Of a missing
Unexpressed
Silent
Unexplored
voice!
Or maybe
Just maybe
One letter
A tiny little letter
will grow into a word
Several strung together a stanza
Several stanzas a poem
An honest to goodnes poem
Then we will all be witnesses
To the emergence
The screaming or quiet entrance
The proverbial birth
of a singular voice
of a wide eyed dreamer
Then you will feel that collective sigh
as other broken dreamers applaud you
For on that day
If only you possess the courage
all will know
That you truly are
and always have been
a Poet!
For Tyshawn Knight's "Words of Wisdom" contest
Re edited version.

There is a way in time
When from Perception’s peak the world is too wide
do the Vertigos shut their eyes to walk
where idle men are bad men and all
their thoughts combine into machines
And out of means ends produce
new worlds
smaller worlds
with narrow eyes
Come, narrow views
Where the vistas are ripe
there is food for all
the Dramatis Personae
It is a great opera
and many are the houses
The houses are full of people
Give them a part, a place
where the voices echo – echo – echo
and happy are the players
who gather the echoes
Eye
the resplendent Conductors
draped in all their finery
Aye
When the batons fall best start
the run major
The play is
It is beginning
The spilling! The spilling!
And nowhere to run but the funnel,
a tunnel of blood
overrun with blood
where the blood is the play, the lot and the thing
when the thing is the matter
of time
too much
- A. H. Sewell 02.23.2015
You can pick up a copy of my eBook "City Sticks - A Collection of 50 Poems" from Smashwords at the link listed below. Come stop by my blog or friend/follow me on Facebook, too! (Links listed below.)
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/539072
www.facebook.com/HelanaSewell1
www.ahsewell.weebly.com

If you can make it through the day,
Never worried what others say,
If you can take the time to play
Yet get your work done come what may,
If you win having never fought,
And mend the stresses time has tore,
Or be content with what you’ve got,
And very rarely ask for more;
If you can make a house a home
And properly raise children too,
If you can stay and never roam
And do it cause it’s what you do,
If you can speak bad of no one
Cause gossip's not worth repeating,
Or stick to a task till it’s done
And never think of retreating;
If you can keep your life savings
And not risk it on a gamble,
And avoid expensive cravings,
And allow your friends to ramble,
If you can force yourself to cope
And do what it takes to survive,
And live on little more than hope
And the will which keeps you alive;
If you can hold your head up high
Or stoop to help those without much,
If you seek truth and not a lie
If you can heal with a touch
If you can be mother and wife
And still find time for God above,
Yours is the Earth and a good life,
And what is more; you'll know of love!

Come to my boudoir Cheri
I am here all for thee
In red and lace
I shall entangle you will love
Entice you with lust
Tease you till desires run dry
You shall be the knight who rides my thigh
In the bonny highlands we shall have our romp
Meadows and fields of summer scent and breeze
I shall wrap you in my honey warmth
Mine, all mine you will be
Wrapped, entwined around my wee finger
Enslaved with love
My love
You belong all to me

She's bound by chains too hard for her to break
Alive and yet she tastes a living death
Morality and ethics round her neck
And so she plans to rob her soul of breath
The flames of hell are licking at her feet
In torture is her soul in need of love
A proffered gift of passion undenied
Would bring upon her wrath from God above
To convent in the hills she must escape
Confession make and plead for mercy there
Or else her heart and soul to crucify
And end the call of pleasure, beauteous fair
Betwixt morality and passion lies
The sweet seduction in a lover’s eyes
Jade Celeste

What is life?
Euphonies, cacophonies and chromosomal anomalies
intertangled destinies and illusive methodologies
Occurring in obscure dimensionless time
Millenniums fertilized to create the sublime
Perceived by ideations so pure it would seem
To exist beyond mind and to all in between.
Lingering as lore to an all distant past
There is no redo, there is no redraft.
The questions, the answers so rightly proclaimed
are composed and transported by thoughts still unnamed.
In limited struggle, the moments unspent
Become the result of a living lament.
In what and wherefore and why and with whom
we unwrap our existence in this paradoxical womb
Can we find meaning, a clear sign that we see
inclusive to all, this existential decree.
From naught made of all and conceived in a star,
we landed on earth, neither near nor afar
For reasons unknown and telegnosis unclear,
These salient projections are all jockeyed by fear
We stand in the way of unknowing surmise
And find the world is still much a surprise.
A quest overwhelming in distressed sanity
For answers not known play havoc to vanity.
To end these remarks with a questionable phrase
all becomes known in 'one of these days.'
SYNOPSIS
From the moment of birth to when we die, life presents us with dilemmas and questions that amuse, titillate and confuse us. As we get older, we realize that what we thought we knew was all pure conjecture. This poem is meant to reflect the myriad of disjointed thoughts that have run through my mind throughout the years. The "why me?" and "what is my purpose in life?" questions usually are met with ambiguity and incoherence.
Many of us are beleaguered with these conceits and although some find solace in religion, for people like me it becomes an existential never ending struggle.
CAK 8-18-2013

The man who tells the truth
There’s something about those fearful folk
There’s many of them too
They hate hassles of any kind
When another says what’s true
They cringe, and hide behind the door
Cause maybe he is right
And if there knowledge gets tested
It gives them no delight
If someone should question them
On beliefs and all that stuff
Even though the words are wise
The truth becomes too tough
They have to have their Teddy bears
To protect them from the night
And when somebody differs from them
It gives them quite a fright
Though the truth might lose him friends
He knows one thing for sure
He’s spoken from intelligence
He’s looked into the core
And because he never follows
{Self-reliance is his way}
He always will respect himself
In all he’ll do and say.
11 October 2014.

SWIMMING UPSTREAM
It seems I always
swim upstream
against the current.
re-creating struggles
of conflicting contradictions
and unsweetened scripts
at odds with others
in deeds and words
a emotional dissonance
played out over a lifetime.
banged and buffered hard
against the onflow;
prevailing opposites rush
to assail my efforts
intent on wearing me down
scraping, scarring, challenging
calling me out with
harsh ridicule and doubt
why must I cause stirred sediments
to muddy, blind and bewilder me
blurring reason so that
what is seen as truth
often becomes mixed
with drama and ambivalence?
how righteous is the direction
of this timeless stream?
shall I swim with it or against it?
go one way or the other;
does it really matter?
I cannot give up
I cannot relent...
this is who I am
a person searching
for kindred spirits
to swim backward
with me
against the current.
to find some direction,
some marker that guides
this hurrier to a another plane
of purposeful existence.
SYNOPSIS
I think most people at some time are contrarian.
Some from the start; others in their teens.
Some all through their life.
I can't remember being otherwise.
In retrospect, am I really that different
or do I use it an excuse
to be noticed? Perhaps both.
CAK 10-13-12013

Masked Men
Look in the mirror
Look in the mirror
What do you see?
Masked men staring back at me
What do you do when you look in the mirror?
Only to despise what you see
The pain you caused the everlasting memories
Do you see what you've done?
Can you live with what you caused?
Go now down your distant path
Your unworthy happiness will never last
These are things the Masked Men Cause
Who’s to say your right or wrong?
Misguided emotions lead you down this path
Masked Men mistakes will surly last
Go now the time has come
No more chances the Masked Men are done
Turn away and feel the pain
The lonely walk to enter slumber
The Masked Men Smile with pleasures unknown
Another one down
A broken spirit lost
Close your eyes and take his hand
Let the Masked Men take you away
By: Tim Lundmark

Her sad eyes and tear stained face evoked such ambivalent feelings;
I could barely stand to look upon the half-naked child in front of me.
She turned her face toward me with a pained look begging for help.
Maternal feelings welled up within for this pitiful tangled haired waif.
Gaping in abject horror, I observed the orphan's frail arms wrapped
tenaciously around a dead rat and held close to her dirt smeared body.
I sensed this sewer 'pet rat' had been her only source of comfort in life.
The one thing she turned to, when sad or hungry, would never again be.
While resisting the urge to gather her up in my arms and dry her tears,
still I desired to sympathize... whispering, "Don't cry honey, it'll be OK".
I lied, knowing it wouldn't. Besides what could I do with so little to give.
I turned and walked away not wanting to face my growing sense of lack.
I awoke with a start, shuddering, deeply disturbed and troubled to tears.
Sometimes the vivid images, like a horror movie returning to haunt me,
make me question, "Who is that wretched child so forlorn and dejected?
The memories shake my very soul, the hidden message still eluding me.

It's in my sanctuary where I write
Deep inside the walls of my mind
It's the only place I can find that's still filled with light
Not clouded by dark thoughts, nah, I'm leaving those behind
It's in my sanctuary where I can think in peace
Where I can blow off steam and just release
It's where my suffering ends and I start to feel good again
In my sanctuary is the one place I no longer feel the pain
It's in my sanctuary where I avoid the human race
And I can move at a more comfortable pace
It's where I can relax and just not care
It's a place where entering should be a dare
It's in my sanctuary where I like to spend my time
'Cause in there nothing costs even a dime
It's all in my head
But hey, at least I'm not dead

My house is not always a happy home .
Journee’s we all take – from time to time -
take me into thoughts travelling on roads to the past,
where I walk with ghosts, that sometimes haunt,
along with spirits that fly – free – into the sublime.
Both sojourn with me to places where dreams,
nightmares find refuge, incubate, where they be
- the facts of life – one carries with them to the end.
For sanity to survive, one must make both friend.
Unlike most else in life, they are with us forever,
even if we burry, no longer see them in the light of day.
Like most else that moves on, they will not fade away,
just hide in dark corners of our house until night key
comes to unlock the subconscious, set the ghosts free.
That is the nature of the psychological, mind game
that human nature - the gods – have ingrained in you and me
and that is what ties us together as one, in there, we are the same.
B. J. “A” 2
August 22nd 2004

When all the skies come falling down,
i ask you 'stand by me'
when I'm in the clouds and won't look down
I pray just wait for me
When I'm far away with thoughts of woe
I ask you let me be
When I tell you just to up and go
I pray you will not leave
If the tides do change, one day they might
I ask will we be free
If the darkness lifts from day to night
I pray its you I'll see
If all the rain should rainbows make
I ask you let it be
but if all the skies come falling down
I pray you'll 'stand by me'

Emotions of addiction
pulling so seductively
like a long lost love
whispering my name
over and over
until its all I hear
yearning rumbles deep down
burning as it rises
like bile in my throat
So conniving in its game
of love and hate
like peek a boo with a child
frightening when it is revealed
turn and run they say
where shall I go
the only recourse is to stay
fighting everyday
as it tries to tear
to wear me down
He calls to me
i answer and somehow
i have won
a new day is here
exhausted and confused
howling growling in the distance
addiction pulls back
waiting patiently so patiently
to take me back to hell

I sit here twitching, shaking, in a panic
I don’t want to do this again, I hate feeling frantic
Don’t let this happen, don’t let me slip away
Into the darkest depths of my mind, nothing to say
At first these experiences seem inviting
But here there’s no such thing as deciding
The light is so bright and luminous at first
Until its’ quickly dimmed and the pain it causes hurts
The darkness creeps in like a predator
With the dim light as it’s’ competitor
Who’s going to win this time, this fight?
Who’s going to give the hardest bite?
Stuck between pure happiness and sadness
There is no explanation to this uncomfortable madness
Waiting, waiting; for this too shall pass
While the emotions in my head encompass
My heart surrounding the insufficiencies of my head
The feelings so heavy as if my heart is fashioned out of lead
Like I’ve got shackles on my hands and around my feet
In this state of mind everything seems obsolete